Change - a peek into prehistory
by stevegallacci
Summary: Adversity demands change. Will a paleolithic Lion Pride be willing to adapt?


They made the shadow rocks at sunrise, so had that small comfort. Still no water, but the promise was just a short additional stretch that they could make at sunset. Eldest Sister looked to her Cub, the last gasp of the pride's generation in the current drought, and only then realized he was dead too. She was too tired, too hungry, too thirsty to demonstrate her grief. Her sisters grouped around her to give her what little comfort their proximity could provide. And keep the Male away.

Eldest Sister looked over at the Male who sulked some distance off and barred her teeth in a hiss of hate. She hated him for his ascendance that drove away her earlier mate and then killed their cubs as tradition demanded. She hated him for putting the new cub in her belly. And now she hated him for this desperate attempt at finding new water that had killed that cub.

She watched him warily, males could eat a dead cub when in duress, and she swore she would not allow that final indignity. But could she if he really asserted himself? She had not saved her earlier living cubs, and in her current state, even if her sisters could help, she doubted her prowess and resolve.

The Male stood up, craning his head to access the situation with the cluster of Females. His nostrils flared, flared again, then grimaced with his whole body, and uttered a sad groan. He knew the Cub was dead. He slumped his shoulders in dismay. He was young and strong and headed his own pride. But it was all falling apart. His little Brother was dead. Several of the Females had slinked off some time ago, an unheard of act of rejection. And now the last of his seed was dead in this wasteland. And he feared that the desperate chance of water would also fail.

Shame was not something a Prideleader should feel. He looked to the Females who returned his gaze with fear and resentment. He had been taught that power and domination was the way to lead. So it was with his Father, and his Father before him. But those were better times, and seldom was the need to assert one's control. A Prideleader could enjoy the attention of his Females without demand as they saw to the day-to-day needs of the Pride. He was realizing that the collective wisdom of the Females was often better than his arbitrary choices and this final one may well doom them all.

But there was a more immediate matter.

The dead cub.

He was desperately hungry, and a part of him had no qualms about simply taking the sad little thing, it was just dead meat now. But He also knew how the Female had loved it, even as she hated him for forcing it into her. He sighed, wishing that he could exchange some mutually comforting grooming with her. There was a time when she would, at least, dutifully, share a touch, but that was now long past.

He considered the ground where he stood and began to dig. No, too rocky under the dusty sand. He tried elsewhere and was again frustrated. It would take him until nearly midday under the blasting sun to find a spot were he finally dug a hole deep enough to not have its contents disturbed. When he was done he staggered off to the far edge of the shade rocks, fearing he had spent too much of his dwindling resource in the effort. But if he was to end here, he had, at least, made that one gesture to the Female.

The Sisters had watched the Male's efforts, initially with some suspicion, but then with a growing understanding of what he was intending. When he was done and had retreated, Youngest Sister cautiously trotted over to inspect the cavity, then nodded to the rest. They lay the shriveled body in the grave; lay a pebble knife and feather toy with him, intended for him when he was a little older. In better times a ritual would have been observed, but now all they could muster was the effort to fill it back in.

At sunset the Male got up, a bit shaky, but relieved that he was ready to make the last stretch to the promised water. The Sisters were ready too, and they were not actively glaring at him, likely they were simply too tired to care anymore. They trudged on though the night, a waxing moon more than adequate to light their way. Still a ways off from their destination, they smelled the bad news of a past wildfire, and soon were shuffling through a land of ash where grasslands once lay.

They finally arrived at the river, or the dry wash that it had become. The immediate disappointment was tempered by the realization that there was a deep pool just up stream that ought to still have water in it. But even that hope was dashed when they arrived. The Male staggered among the dusty cobbles that would have been head deep under water in better times. He sat among the stones and wept in dismay.

The Sisters sat on the bank, huddled together, seeing their death before them.

After a time, the Male stirred, sniffing, sniffing. He probed among the rocks, scrabbling at the silt-cemented boulders. There was water, somewhere under the rubble. But the round smooth stones were wedged and mortared tight. The Sisters recognized his efforts and too began to probe, but their weakened limbs were unable to drive their claws into a useful purchase.

As always, it was Youngest Sister who went looking, this time for a stick, a limb, something to use as a lever. They knew of such things, but never felt the need heretofore. But the fire had burned everything away. The few trees had been largely destroyed by desperate Elephants earlier and the dying remains reduced to blackened trunks.

She chuffed a warning to the rest. Strangers in the distance.

A pawful of Gazelle, a welcome sight for an ambushed meal in better times, but they all carried long spears. The Male hissed at the sight, his Little Brother had been struck down by spear-wielding Food.

The sad little Pride moved off from the riverbed and watched the four small Prey examine the disappointment for themselves. The tiny Gazelles appeared to be in little better shape than the Lions, shrunk-bellied, haggard things, but they were alert to their presence. Three kept their spears at the ready, while the fourth probed the cobbles where the Lions had sensed moisture. It signed to another and the pair began using their spear-butts to lever a stone.

Shortly the first boulder comes loose, but it was big and the Gazelles were small and their hooves too hard and smooth to find good purchase. They tried to lever it out, but they couldn't get a good angle to get it clear of its cavity. Youngest Sister observed intently. After watching the extended struggle, she gets up and cautious approached.

It wasn't a huge rock, and in better days, she could have easily hefted it out. But with an effort, she did get it up and out and rolled well to the side, panting with the effort. She was rewarded with hope. The ground under was moist. She examined the start of a well and saw what needed to be done next. She pointed at the next stone that would be broken loose next and retreated from the hole.

So it began. The Gazelles would pry stones loose and the lions with remove them. As both parties were in such a reduced state, the individuals would swap out, two gazelles on guard and two working their spears as levers, while each Sister took turns, and even the Male pitched in.

Finally, Youngest Sister held up a paw full of wet sand and squeezed out drops of water. A small basin in the wider excavation was scratched out and everyone sat back for seepage to fill it. While they waited, one of the Gazelles walked off, looking to the sad stubble and ash that had been the green belt that followed the river course.

A bit later the Pride watched an odd exchange among the Prey. The one who had wandered off had come back with am armload of dirty things, roots, perhaps? There seemed to be an argument, with much pointing at the roots and back at the Pride. Finally, one of the Gazelles tossed down its spear, picked up a portion of the roots, and marched them over to a point about half way to the curious Lions.

The Gazelle was a Female, she was as dried as the sad teats of the Sisters, and she dropped the roots, save one, which she broke in half and bite into the broken end. Youngest Sister considered, but it is Eldest Sister who got up and walked towards the Gazelle. She towered over the little Prey. It would have been easy to take her then, she could smell the rank fear, but she took the offered bit of root.

It smelled inoffensively of dirt, and unfamiliar tangs of plant, but nothing nasty. Eldest Sister licked it. It was moist, firm, still unfamiliar, but with a bit of sweet to it. The Gazelle demonstrated a bite with her half, chewing it vigorously. The vegetable crunch was very weird, and the flavor was very much Not Meat. But it was edible, though needed some awkward chewing with her highly unsuited teeth.

Eldest Sister held out her paw, palm down. The Gazelle touched it with her own little hoof hand, her face, for a moment relaxing from it rigid mask of fear. The two retreated, the Lioness carrying the load of roots back to her Pride.

The Sisters nibbled at the strange stuff. They agreed that it was not going to sustain them, but was at least a temporary belly-filler. Eldest Sister carried a share over to the Male and sat down beside him as he puzzled over the things. The Male was not keen on eating Food's food, but even he recognized that it was better than the empty knot of the last many days. That She was still sitting beside him was perhaps more of a comfort than the questionable stuff.

Youngest Sister went back to check on the progress of the well and chirruped in delight. It wasn't full, but there was enough for mouthfuls for everyone, even the Gazelles.

The Male was the very last to drink, little more than a muddy mouth full, but he was relieved that there was now a chance of survival. He pawed the well larger and deeper in anticipation of more accumulation. Looking around, he saw that he could heave another stone out of the larger cavity, perhaps allowing easier access and even deeper digging.

So it went thought the rest of the day. A few good mouthfuls each and small efforts to improve the mammal-made watering hole. Then wait for a refill.

But what to do next? The Gazelles had clearly found substantial food for themselves, but the Pride needed meat. Traditionally, a watering hole was neutral ground, and the co-operative nature of the day's activities made it more so unthinkable to turn on those who had added them.

It was collectively decided that they would scout the river course, perhaps for more potential well sites, but mainly for the hope of some other questing Food that they might take.

The Pride left at sunset, Eldest Sister held up a paw to the Gazelles, gesturing that they were leaving to the North up river. One of the Gazelles gestured back that they would be going south, down river. Likely in the morning as they preferred daylight travel.

With the Moon lighting their way, they meandered up the course. It was some time before they came to the end of the wild fire area, though the vegetation was little spared. Most was dry, dead or dormant, largely cropped down long ago. Most of the trees were broken down by hungry big mammals and any green, and even much bark, stripped. They did find a possible second well site. It was well worth a return visit, but they needed meat.

At dawn that next day, they could almost not believe their luck. A Zebra, a foolish young Stallion, was wandering incautiously down the draw, and had no obvious spear or other weapon. Instead of at least attempting to run, it stood its ground, first throwing rocks at the approaching Sisters. But the effort did little to deter the starving Lions. Finally, it stood, gripping an ineffectual stone in a last gesture of defiance, alternately raging and weeping at its fate.

Eldest Sister stood before it. A part of her wanted to simply lunge in and tear away at its body. Her belly growled louder than her usual hunting voice. Instead, she gestured with her paw for it to lay down the rock. After a tense moment it did so, glancing around at the three Lionesses who had it so clearly surrounded. She then raised her paw to cover her eyes for a moment, then nodded to it. The Zebra, though terrified, realized what she meant, and, taking a deep breath, closed its tear streaming eyes.

The Food was good, healthy meat. Though it had not eaten in a few days, it had come from a place of water and plentiful food. Perhaps from the far West, beyond the unknown hills? Too far into the unfamiliar for their collective comfort. But this kill was enough to carry them for a good while. Enough to examine the potential of the second well site. And this time they had material to do their own levering.

Over the next several days they had excavated a new well. Though it had to be dug deeper than the first, it too provided a reliable flow of water. And as custom dictated, they were prepared to share. First was a thin scrap of a Jackal, with a remarkably long spear. It gestured a question how this marvel came about. Youngest Sister answered as best she could, Eldest was not going to bother with such a lesser Thing. It considered the answer for the longest time, then took its fill and then left.

Other Prey came and went, some armed, some unarmed. The Sisters stalked and took an Ibex after it had visited, but only after a half-day's departure. The pride also patrolled the river course for other stray Food.

The Jackal returned a few days later, with a Mate, and a fresh-killed Springhaas, which it offered to the Pride. This did impress the Eldest Sister. She considered a moment then counter-offered that they take their fill first.

The Pride also went back to the first well site, and were gratified that others had used and improved on it.

They stayed in the area though the rest of the drought. The first well did dry up but only shortly before the rains finally returned. Also during that time other lesser Predators came and contacted the Pride, some offering to share food. Both Eldest Sister and the Male were concerned about another set of Lions coming to challenge the territory. But in those days, only a sad Pride, larger in number but in little better condition than their own had been in the bad times, came by. They had no intentions of offending the small but sleek group of Lions that so clearly controlled this now choice area, but were grateful for the gift of reliable water.

In the fullness of time, the Male looked out over the land, his Pride's land. And the Three Sisters, and the happy Cubs who were learning to knap stones for their own knives and spear points under his instruction. They were not his though, they were the Sons and Daughters of the new Pride Leader, but they were Children of his Children. Things had changed. He had been allowed to stay at the insistence of the Three Sisters, who were now the elder wisdom, care givers and teachers of the young of the greater Pride.

Things had changed at the wells too. Along with being maintained to a high level of reliability in the dry times, the extended drought now a fading memory, they had become formal meeting places. Quality stone for better blades, exotic shells from places unknown, bags and baskets made by skilled paws and hooves, were all a common thing.

Moreover, what, or rather who, that could be hunted was being reconsidered. Those Prey who could better defend themselves with their own weapons, doubly so those who had become traders, were the first to be recognized as People rather than just Food. Where would this lead, especially to the Great Cats? They were obligate carnivores, and could not sustain themselves on the beginnings of the deliberately grown plants that were being traded as well.

That was not the Male's concern. There was still plenty of savage Food out there for now. He gently stroked the Eldest Sister. She looked back at him. It wasn't exactly love, but it was a comfortable acceptance, and a partnership. And that seemed enough for now.


End file.
